Blue Christmas
by TheShoelessOne
Summary: CharlieClaire. It's a miserable place to hold Christmas. Charlie tries to make it seem more festive, and unavoidably screws it up. How could he possibly make it up to her?


**Blue Christmas**

Charlie had never been so bored on Christmas Eve.

He had a distinct feeling that everyone was against him today. Michael and Walt, while taking Vincent for a walk, had quickly said "hello" and skirted the jungle to let him by. Hurley, usually one with whom he was on good terms with, simply gave a nod as Charlie passed. Kate just ignored him. Jack was patching that hypochondriac and even had the gall to shout at Charlie for strumming absently on his guitar.

_So much for Holiday Spirit_, Charlie thought as he glared burning red holes into the back of Jack O'Perfect's head. Making sure the strap was secure around his shoulder, Charlie stood quickly and stomped from his usual strumming spot. It was ruined now that Jack McDoctor had spread his Grinch attitude all over the ground within a twenty-foot radius. He'd just have to find somewhere where someone was more in a Jingle Bells sorta mood.

"Hey," a voice ahead of him on the trail started. At first, Charlie was excited, no elated that someone acknowledged his existence on the holiest night of the year. Then his spirits sank. It was _Shannon_. The last time he'd had a major encounter with her, she had stolen his fish. She'd been friendly, yes; all until she got her hands on that bloody fucking fish. Charlie furrowed his brows and nodded.

"Hey," he said back, wanting nothing more than to press on. Shannon simply stood dumbly in front of him, kneading her hands.

"Hey, have you... Have you seen Boone?" She looked away as Charlie looked up to meet her eyes.

_Guilty conscience, you spoiled little brat?_ Charlie thought smugly.

"He went off after wood an hour ago, and I haven't seen him..." Shannon trailed off, then looked at the dirt. "Sorry, never mind..." she pushed past him quickly down the trail. Charlie watched her go with a sense of satisfaction, then something kicked his stomach.

_Tell her you saw Boone at the watering hole fifteen minutes ago, you bastard!_ His insides told him. Growling at the internal struggle, Charlie turned after her.

"I saw him getting some water a few minutes ago," Charlie shouted. Shannon turned, just barely.

"Th-thank you," she said as she ran off. Charlie frowned deeply, strumming a B-minor chord on his guitar as she exited sight.

"Yeah, Happy Christmas to you, too." He thought for a moment how B-minor seemed to fit his dark feelings toward Shannon, and he smiled at himself and kept walking. After an uneventful stroll sans encounters, Charlie found a secluded spot simply for his own enjoyment. Tweaking the peg on his high E string for only a moment, Charlie began to pluck out a simple chord progression.

He guessed that this would probably be the strangest Christmas he would ever experience. Stranded on an island without hope of rescue was not number one on his wish list. As he switched to D-chord, he thought, just maybe, it wasn't so bad.

_I mean, isn't Christmas s'posed to be about being with friends and family, not all that commercial shit?_ He thought.

"What is that?" A soft voice came from the trail. Charlie looked up abruptly, clamping his hand over the strings to mute them. The first thing he saw was her pregnant stomach. She was carrying two bottles of water in one arm and an unidentified package in the other. Charlie looked down at his guitar and fiddled with the strings.

"Nothin'," he answered lowly. "I'm just piddling around." And it was the truth. Anything to get out from under the icy stare of Jack the Snow Miser. Claire worked her way over to where he sat cross-legged on the ground, and she gave her best effort to sit next to him. The package in her other arm was still unidentifiable. Claire placed one water bottle next to Charlie, then opened the second one for her. Charlie unscrewed the cap in silence and chugged the first few drinks.

"Y'know, I could have gone and gotten water for you," Charlie said at last. Claire looked up from her stomach, eyes wide in confusion.

"I can still manage to get water for myself, Charlie," she assured him, taking a swig of refreshing water. Charlie strummed a sweet C-major chord.

"You shouldn't have to, though," he said nonchalantly. "Not today anyway." Claire raised an eyebrow.

"What? What's today?" Claire asked. Charlie could hardly believe his ears.

"Claire!" He said, astounded. "Dear, sweet, innocent Claire, do you _really_ not remember what today is?"

"Other than hot, no, I don't, honestly."

_You're a git, Charlie. A massive git. You didn't even get her anything, and it's Christmas Freakin' Eve!_ Charlie tried aggressively to swat the angry voices from his ears. _If you don't tell her, you might be able to scrounge something up for her in time!_

"It's... ah...." Charlie tried desperately to find something interesting for today to be. "Well... It's Pregnancy Awareness Week!" Claire's face darkened.

"Charlie, don't..."

"I thought that you shouldn't have to get your own water on your own week, Claire!"

"Charlie, please stop messing around, it's not-"

"I swear, Claire, you're up getting that bloody water far too often. You shouldn't have to-"

Charlie noticed all too late that Claire was angry. Angry with _him.  
_  
"You know what, Charlie?" Claire said furiously, as she pushed herself up. "Happy Christmas!" She threw the unidentified object, hard, at Charlie's feet. Her face red, she turned her back to him and walked as quickly down the path as her baby would allow. Charlie was left to stare at the object at his feet.

Guilt surged through him, as well as humiliation and defeat. Looping his guitar strap over his neck and setting the instrument aside, Charlie picked it up in his hands and looked at it. A simple brown box about a foot cubed in volume. Glancing up the path to where Claire had disappeared, he undid the twine around the box and peeked tentatively inside.

_Charlie, you are the biggest asshole on this island.  
_  
Inside the box was a hat, wide brimmed and yet masculine at the same time. There was a ripped piece of paper, taken from Claire's diary, that lay alongside the gift. Charlie's fingers fished it out, and nearly smacked himself once he read it.

"Charlie-  
Now we match!  
-Claire"

_Why does she have to be so fucking wonderful?_

Charlie sighed, and hid his face in his hands, ashamed. After a few minutes of wallowing in his own shame, Charlie looked at the hat again. With a fluid movement, he perched it atop his head, squashing it against his hair. There was no way he could see what he looked like, but when he felt it atop his head, felt that Claire had gotten it for him from who knows how much wreckage (or worse, Sawyer), he felt suddenly special. He felt the material of the brim, and he could tell from the shape that it was Australian in manufacture.

_Just like Claire_, Charlie thought with a half-smirk.

Holidays are to spend with your family and friends, right?

Charlie realized that he had something very important to tell Claire, and it had nothing to do with Pregnancy Awareness Week.

----------

Claire fumed. All she'd wanted to do was give him a present. Was that too hard? Then he had to go and say those things... They didn't seem so hurtful when said by themselves, but together, they had cut through her heart. Charlie thought that she was useless, too weak to get water for herself. It really hurt, especially since he was the only one on the island who even looked at her without thinking about the baby.

Or at least she thought.

She couldn't even find the words to write in her diary. All she could force out of her pencil were frustrated scribbles.

This was the most miserable Christmas she had ever spent.

Then the leaves rustled in a low chord. She thought this was odd, so she looked up. Jack sighed in frustration.

"I thought I told him that he's interrupting my concentration..." Jack muttered as he applied a scrap of gauze to the forehead of an injured woman. Claire dug her eyebrows downward. There was definitely music coming from the path to the beach. It was soft. And sad. Heads popped up all over the camp, listening to the sad tinkling of the guitar down the path. Claire's diary had snapped shut without her knowing.

Because now there were words reaching her ears.

_I'll have a Blue Christmas without you.  
_  
Claire's heart leapt. That was Charlie's voice. Jack looked up from his patient, and even the Korean couple seemed inexplicably drawn to the sound of the music.

_I'll be so blue just thinking about you.  
_  
Murmurs were fluttering around her, but she wasn't listening. She wanted to hear the song. Kate was by her side, and straining her ears to listen.

_Decorations of red on a green Christmas tree._

She was walking now. She was very aware of this. She just wasn't in control of her motions. One thing was for sure. She was smiling.

_Won't mean a thing if you're not here with me_.

She was on the path. She didn't know why she was going to him. She was supposed to be angry with him. _How could someone stay mad with someone who's singing a song like **that**?_ Just as she moved back a frond, she saw Charlie standing, solitary, strumming the chord progression.

And he was wearing that stupid hat.

Claire couldn't help but smile. All of the stress in her chest left in one laugh, one laugh that had tears on its edges, waiting to be set free. But she didn't let them. The strumming stopped when Charlie met Claire's eyes, and he walked up to her, his face a bright red.

"Sorry, Claire," he said quickly. "Happy Christmas." With those words, he pointed above him, where someone had tied a palm branch to a limb of an unsuspecting tree. Just as Claire looked up, she felt Charlie's strong arms take her thin shoulders. The next thing she knew, he was kissing her.

The scary thing was, she wasn't stopping him.

Too soon, Charlie pulled back, just a few inches, and grinned that marvelous grin of his. Claire couldn't find any words, the shock of Charlie's sneak attack still making her heart pound violently. Finally, she found words.

"Charlie.... That isn't mistletoe." It was a ridiculous counter for the present she had just received. But, in pure Charlie fashion, he didn't care.

"Shh," he warned her, glancing around as if they were being watched. "Don't tell anyone. They can't tell the difference." He gave a rolling shrug. "We've been on this bloody island so long no one remembers anything about Holiday Spirit anyway." As if in reluctance, he released Claire from his grip. Rustling from the camp end of the trail told them that someone else had come to discover the source of the noise. Jack himself, torn from his doctoral duties, was strolling down the path.

"Scrooge McDuck himself," Charlie murmured out of the corner of his mouth. Claire bit her lip to keep from laughing. Jack looked past and around the two of them, as if he was expecting someone else to be there, then raised an eyebrow.

"Charlie, was that you singing?" he asked. Charlie smirked.

"No, I think it was the mistletoe." He motioned to the pitiful palm branch tied to the tree. "It calls for you, Jack," he added in an ominous voice. Against all reasoning, Jack laughed, and shot an almost unperceivable glance over his shoulder to a certain slender brunette who was also striding quickly down the path. Charlie smirked. Maybe he wasn't just a miser. Jack... Jack was all right.

"What was_ that_?" Kate asked as she came to stop by Jack. She, unlike Jack, noticed the proximity in which Charlie was standing next to Claire, how the girl's face was flushed. Charlie shrugged.

"Just trying to bring a little bit of Christmas Cheer to this desolate hell hole. Nothing says we have to miserable _all_ the time." Claire placed her hand on her upper arm and smiled.

"Sounds like a plan to me, Charlie."

That night, Christmas Eve, all of the survivors gathered around the fire and sang as Charlie played carols on his guitar. No matter how many times he played 'O, Holy Night,' he never stopped for a break, or asked for water. The last of them didn't get to sleep until the stars started to disappear. Maybe tomorrow it would go back to normal life, but tonight, Claire would relish in the songs, the mistletoe, and how warm Charlie's shoulder was when she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

----------

AN: All right. This is my second Lost fic, so I should have worked out all my bugs of Lost-ing with the first one. I know I took some liberties, but, hey, who hasn't? I hope everyone likes it as much as I do! Have fun reading, everybody!


End file.
